CHAPTER 2: THE BITTER SWEETNESS
"Come on, Lily," Mark said gently, lifting his daughter into his arms. The cane tapped lightly against his knee. He turned toward Leo, pulling a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet. "Don't leave the neighborhood. I need to talk to you again."
Leo didn’t take the cash. He merely gave a grim nod and stepped back into the shadows of the hedges.
Walking up the manicured driveway of their suburban home, Mark observed his surroundings with an entirely new set of eyes. The house had always felt like a sanctuary, but today it loomed like an immaculate cage.
Inside, the warm smell of cinnamon and baked apples filled the hallway. Clara emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a linen apron. Her smile was smooth, practised, and radiant.
"There’s my brave little angel," Clara cooed, reaching to take Lily from Mark's arms. "I just made your special chamomile tea with organic honey, sweetheart. It’ll help with the evening dizziness."
A shudder ran down Mark’s spine. *Her special chamomile tea.* "I'll give it to her, Clara," Mark said, his voice level despite his racing pulse. "I want to spend a few minutes with her in the study first."
Clara’s smile tightened at the edges—a micro-expression of annoyance so subtle Mark would have missed it on any other day. "Of course, Mark. But don't let it get cold. The herbs lose their potency if they sit."
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Closing the heavy oak door of his study, Mark placed Lily gently on the leather sofa. He looked at the steaming ceramic mug in his hand. The honey gave off a rich, comforting fragrance, but underneath the sweet veneer, there was a faint, metallic tinge. Without making a sound, Mark retrieved a sterile glass flask from his desk drawer and poured half the tea inside, concealing it deep within his briefcase.
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